


A Bridge/A Chain

by Jain



Category: Think of England - K. J. Charles
Genre: F/F, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain
Summary: A job interview, and what comes after.





	A Bridge/A Chain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soupytwist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupytwist/gifts).



Neither of Miss Carruth's parents was at the interview. "I hope you don't mind," she said with an inviting little laugh and a flash of dimples. "They're both looking forward to meeting you, of course. But as _I'm_ the one who'd be spending the most time with you, I persuaded them that I should also be the one to meet you first."

"Of course," Pat said after the briefest pause. Not that Pat had much--or any--experience of being hired as a companion, but she imagined that the parents of a girl as young as Miss Carruth generally took a more hands-on approach. She was only nineteen, according to Carmilla Andrews, who'd first recommended the position to Pat. Not so far off from Pat's own 23 years, but enough that her present display of independence was...unexpected. Pat wondered briefly if this interview was a harbinger of future incidents in which Miss Carruth twisted her parents around her finger until they let her do as she pleased.

She shook her head inwardly at her own cynicism. Carmilla had said Miss Carruth was a "sweet girl, and cleverer than she looks. Not really our sort--" with a telling glance at Pat "--but very nice. If you have to work, I imagine this would be a good family to do it for." They'd been in mixed company, so Pat hadn't pursued that "not our sort" further, though she'd doubted it meant the Carruths' new money; Carmilla wasn't quite _that_ much of a snob.

Watching Miss Carruth now as she poured tea and invited Pat to select a sandwich with an elegantly competent air, Pat thought Carmilla may have meant something more indefinite than Pat had originally suspected. Miss Carruth was as soft and pink as a hothouse bloom, politely uncomprehending when the conversation turned to shooting--though she congratulated Pat with sincere warmth on her gold at the Ladies' All England shooting competition--and admiring when Pat mentioned her fondness for outdoor rambles. "I like walking in parks and gardens all right, but that's just for an hour or so. I've never gone on an all-day _expedition_ the way you have."

"What sorts of activities do you prefer, then?" Pat asked, hoping against hope that they'd find some common ground.

Miss Carruth shrugged. "Oh, the usual, I suppose. I like parlor and card games, and dancing, and reading, and traveling." She leaned forward with a sweetly confiding look. "That's really why I need a companion, you know. Daddy's too busy with work to leave home often, and Mummy's health isn't very good. And since I'm far too young and female to be trusted on my own, I need to find someone else to travel with me."

The surprisingly arch tone in which she made that final statement almost startled a laugh out of Pat. She managed to turn it into a smile at the last moment. "I probably haven't traveled much, in comparison to you, but I've always enjoyed it," she offered.

"It's so interesting!" Miss Carruth agreed, her eyes sparkling. "All of the new sights to see and the people to meet."

It was a tenuous bridge; Pat preferred mountains and forests, Miss Carruth no doubt preferred London and Paris and Florence. But the promise of travel, even if not to the sort of places Pat would choose herself, was nonetheless better than the promise of staying at home.

"Of course, I know that it can be tiring to travel all the time, and I do like to gad about." Pat almost protested this aspersion on her fortitude, but the speaking look in Miss Carruth's eye made her pause. "So Daddy and I agreed that 200 pounds a year is the fairest allowance we could offer you."

That was 50 pounds more than Pat had been aiming for. Still, it wasn't so high as to be suspect, and in any case she'd never heard anything bad about the Carruths. Most likely they just knew that they could afford it, and were happy to spread their wealth around a little. Pat could hardly mind that.

"Though if you wouldn't mind throwing in a few shooting lessons for me, that would be lovely," Miss Carruth added.

Pat met her eyes, startled. "For hunting, you mean, or..?"

"Oh, no!" Miss Carruth laughed. "Nothing like that. It just seems like a useful sort of thing to know, and the Ladies' All-England shooting champion would be a better teacher than I could have ever hoped for."

"All right, then. I'd be happy to teach you." If Pat were very lucky, Miss Carruth might even enjoy it enough to make it one of her hobbies, so that Pat could keep up with her shooting despite her new circumstances. And even if that didn't transpire, at least Miss Carruth was young and amiable. The two of them might not be _sympathetic_ , but Pat was determined that they could get along well enough, if she only focused on room and board and 200 pounds per annum, and not on all the things she'd be giving up.

* * *

**Three years later**

"I'm sorry," Fen said as soon as the door was safely closed and locked behind them. "This was a terrible compromise, and I wish I'd never suggested it."

Pat shook her head. "It's not your fault--I thought it was a good idea, too."

Interesting countryside for Pat to explore and a congenial house party for Fen to enjoy had been the plan. One dinner had been enough to put paid to that notion. Sir Hubert and Lady Armstrong were as friendly and charming as ever, but the rest of the party was another matter. Mr. Lambdon was slimy, Mrs. Lambdon mousy to the point of silence, Mr. da Silva pretentious and self-absorbed. James Armstrong was obnoxiously over-attentive, and his friend worse. There was another couple and a single gentleman yet to join them, but Pat didn't hold out much hope that they'd be any better than the present company.

"At least Mr. da Silva is amusing."

Pat sniffed. "Overly frivolous for my tastes."

"Him or me?" Fen asked with a too innocent air.

Pat smiled despite herself. "Both of you, obviously," she said and leaned closer to kiss Fen.

Fen's mouth opened instantly to hers and she wrapped her arms around Pat's waist. Secure in the knowledge that nobody else would see Fen until breakfast next morning, Pat slid her fingers into Fen's mass of silky hair, plucking out hairpins with practiced haste.

"Turn around," she murmured into the kiss when the last lock of hair had fallen free. Fen obliged, and Pat worked her way down the row of tiny buttons, then helped Fen out of the dress and laid it on a nearby chair.

Fen gave Pat a bewitching smile. "My turn?" she asked. There was no need for it--Pat's dresses were rather more practical than Fen's, with buttons she could reach herself--but it was a pleasure nonetheless to feel Fen's clever fingers laying Pat bare.

 _At least the beds are top-notch,_ Pat thought as they tumbled together onto the mattress, pleasingly firm with a cool billow of goose down duvet laid on top.

"Are you cold?" she asked when Fen shivered.

Fen's smile deepened. "No." She pulled Pat close for another kiss. Lithe and flexible out of her confining skirts, she hooked one leg over Pat's hip and arched against her.

The sounds of their lovemaking echoed quietly in the large room, interspersed with the occasional less quiet moan. It was a good thing that they were at the far end of the corridor, with an empty room beside them and with Mr. da Silva, across the corridor and one door over, the closest guest. Frivolous he might be, but he could hardly be shocked at Pat's and Fen's relationship. If he was even paying attention to anything at the moment aside from his much lauded muse.

Fen was trembling continuously now, and Pat wrenched her attention away from non-existent dangers and back onto Fen. A minute later, Fen's cry of pleasure sounded out, muffled by Pat's skin, as she shivered through her release.

Pat stroked her bare back until Fen was ready to reciprocate, which she did with her usual enthusiasm. Afterwards, she curled up on Pat's chest.

"Stay tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"Risky," Pat said, in lieu of the _no_ that she didn't want to give.

"Didn't you get the impression from James Armstrong that discretion was the rule here?"

Pat had indeed; the unsubtle leer at Fen accompanying that hint had been one more mark against him in a dinner full of them.

"Not that I'd trust him to keep anything from Mr. Holt," Fen amended in a wry tone. "But it does imply that no one will be watching the guest room doors too closely to see who comes out of where. Besides, you know I never sleep properly my first night in a new house. If we lay a deck of cards on the desk tomorrow morning, no one will guess that we weren't up playing piquet at all hours."

Fen slept like a baby wherever she was; the pretence that she didn't was a useful one that she'd cultivated a couple years back.

"Tonight, then," Pat said. Fen made a face at the deliberately qualified agreement, but didn't argue. Time enough to see how far discretion reached tomorrow. If the deck of cards did its work properly, then they might revisit the idea on other nights. And in the meantime, they'd have _this_ night, one more shining moment in a chain of them stretching back two and a half years and forward--thank God--into the distant future. Enough to hang a lifetime on, Pat hoped and believed, if only they tried their best.


End file.
